Future Imperfect
by IfIcan'tdance
Summary: After the happy ever afters, and a while again after that, Hermione Granger is trying to take a break from the magical world, while Jace Herondale is running away from life in his own particular style. T rated for the moment, may become M as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

This story takes place some years after the events of Trick or Treat, by Emma Goldman Sachs, in which Hermione Granger and Jace Wayland meet briefly.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

"Where are you sitting?" shouted the young man, across the bar.

The pub was crowded and noisy, football playing on the big screen beside the bar. Hermione looked around, beginning to regret her choice; she'd been hungry and wet after her walk, and chosen the first place offering food.

"I'll be outside," she shouted back, after a moment's consideration. It had pretty much stopped raining now, and there were big umbrellas over the tables.

"Okay, I'll bring it out when it's ready."

Settling down with her drink, Hermione felt more cheerful. The sun had come out, and the garden at the front of the pub was pleasantly quiet and entirely Muggle. She pulled her map and guidebook out of her bag, ready to plan her next day's walk in the mountains.

As she spread the map out, a man came and sat down on the wall at the front of the garden. She glanced up, then tensed, all thoughts of lunch forgotten, as she registered the blur of magic and pain surrounding him.

The first thought to flit through her mind was _Is one month off from picking up magic problems too much to ask?_

The second was _What?_

Where had she seen a similar not-quite-spell before?

A second look showed swirling black inked marks, triggering something in her memory. Then the figure looked up, directly at her, and suddenly she realised that not only did she know _what_ he was, she also knew _who_.

Pushing her map into her bag, she grabbed her wand, and tucked it discreetly inside the sleeve of her jumper. She checked that no-one was watching, and muttered a misdirection charm. It wouldn't make her suddenly invisible, but any Muggles trying to look at her would find themselves distracted by the view, or another customer.

She worked her way through the tables in the garden, across to the wall.

"Jace Herondale?" she said, quietly.

"Hermione Granger. Fancy seeing you here." She was right, he had recognised her.

Now she was closer, she could see a deep cut across his shoulder, bleeding sluggishly, another on his leg, and bruises on his face.

She sighed inwardly, seeing her holiday retreating away from her.

"Do you need help?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound reluctant.

"Well, what I could really do with right now is a warlock who can tackle demon poison. I don't suppose you have one handily tucked away in your backpack?" asked Jace, an edge of sarcasm to his voice.

Hermione looked at him again. He looked thinner than she remembered – older, though that wasn't surprising - but also tired, with a greyish cast to his face.

"Look, I'm staying in a cottage round the corner. Come back with me, and I'll see what I can do," she said. "Healing magic isn't particularly my speciality, but if I can't help, I can get you to someone who can."

 _If needs be, I can apparate out of the cottage and take him back to right by his Institute side-along,_ she thought. _He'll be gone by teatime._

Jace winced slightly as he stood up, and Hermione wondered momentarily if he would be able to walk to the cottage. She was about to offer her arm, but as she started to move, he seemed to pull himself together, and stand a little straighter.

"Go on, Florence Nightingale, lead the way," he said. "Don't worry, you won't have to carry me."

/

Hermione sighed inwardly with relief as they reached the gate to the cottage she was renting. Although it was only a few streets away, she had begun to wonder part way there if she should actually try to carry him. The second time she had offered support, when he missed his step on a steep kerb, he had taken her arm, and he was walking more and more slowly with every minute that passed.

She opened the door to the cottage with a muttered 'Alohamora', earning a sideways look from Jace.

"Showing off?" he asked, his words slightly slurred.

"Avoiding you falling over while I look for the keys," she answered, with some asperity, half pushing him inside.

The cottage door opened straight into the main living room, and Jace half sat, half fell onto the big sofa that sat in front of the open hearth. Hermione set her bag down on the table on the other side of the doorway, and pulled her wand free of her sleeve.

"What happened?" she asked, then realised that he was slumped down on the sofa, unconscious. She shook him, then shook harder, but got no response.

The wound on his shoulder looked angry and swollen. Demon poison, he'd said, so it wasn't just a question of blood loss. She thought back to her research after she'd met the Shadowhunters before; they had their own healing runes, and could heal easily from injuries that would kill normal humans.

Should she try and contact someone from St Mungo's? Leaving aside any questions of secrecy, it would take time, and it looked like he needed treatment urgently. He certainly wasn't in any state to apparate, even if she knew where to take him. Best to see what she could do herself, and then try to fetch someone more skilled.

Resolved, she took her wand, and ran through her stock of healing spells. Removal of poison from a wound; that seemed appropriate. She'd only used it once, a couple of years back when Ron had been stung by a scorpion on holiday in Spain, but it was simple enough.

She touched her wand to Jace's shoulder, and spoke the charm. A hissing stream of black liquid pooled from the wound, falling to the floor. Hermione was startled by the quantity; she'd barely got two drops of scorpion venom out of Ron. She touched the cut on his leg, repeating the spell, and a further tablespoon or so of black sizzling poison joined the pool.

She stood back, looking at the figure on the sofa. He had lost the grey tinge from his face, and was definitely breathing more easily.

An insistent tapping at the window pulled her attention away from him.

Of course. Three days into the month, a collapsed Shadowhunter, and now an owl from the Ministry. It was a familiar looking tawny - Kriophoros, she thought. She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands, then opened the window to let the owl in. Sliding the paper from its leg, she unfolded it.

 _Hermione,_

 _Sorry to bother you, but we've just received a report of unusual activity from a wizarding couple near Corris. We've tried to contact them by owl and by Floo, but got no reply. As we have no other suitable people nearby, could you nip over and see them, and just check they're ok,_

 _thanks, Bill_

 _ps, hope you're enjoying your holiday_

A grid reference and map was pinned to the bottom of the letter.

An amused voice came from the sofa.

"An owl?"

"I know," answered Hermione, distracted. "Three days it's been. You'd think he could give me _one month's_ holiday, wouldn't you." She held the letter up again. "He says 'No suitable people nearby'. Do they not have broomsticks? Can they not apparate? How much do we actually _pay_ these wizards."

She looked at Jace, realising suddenly that he was sitting up on the sofa, to all appearances unharmed.

"I thought you were half dead," she said.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Would you prefer that I was?" he asked. He looked down. "I think whatever you did to get _that_ " – and he indicated the pool on the floor – "out of me seems to have solved the problem."

A twist of black smoke was rising from the poison, which seemed to be sinking into the wooden floor.

"It's an interesting approach" he continued. "I've never seen demon injuries healed quite like that before. Not great for the décor, though."

Hermione sighed again, putting the letter down on the table. She flicked her wand at the pool. ' _Scourgify'_. The pool vanished, leaving a black indented mark on the floor. She flicked her wand again. ' _Reparo'_ , returning the floor to its previous, slightly battered, state.

The owl had hopped over to Jace, and was nudging his hand with its head. He held out his arm, and it jumped up, gripping his sleeve with his claws "I like your owl," he added, scratching its head.

"It's not mine," Hermione replied. "It just brought me a letter _,_ " and she pointed at the note.

"Of course," said Jace. "Owl post. Why not."

"Because a mobile phone would be quicker and easier?" answered Hermione. "It's a ridiculous way to communicate. But you try telling the Ministry that. They've been using owls since the Middle Ages, and they're not going to change now. _And_ it means that if I want to tell them to get lost I have to write a letter and send it back to them, and it'll be less effort just to go and do what they want."

She stood by the table, looking down at the letter again. "No doubt this family have long since realised that whatever they saw was totally explicable, and gone out for the day."

Jace looked over her shoulder at the map. "I hope so," he said. "But I think it might be a good idea if I come with you, just in case they haven't."

There was an edge to his voice, as he said "We should move fast. That address looks very close to where I met the demons that did this -" and he indicated his shoulder. "Do you have a car."

Hermione shook her head. Infected by his urgency, she was pulling her phone out of her bag.

"I don't think we can really call a taxi to go demon hunting," said Jace.

"No – wait a moment – give me that grid reference." She was pulling up the map on her phone as she spoke.

"Google Street View?" asked Jace, bemused now. "Look, I can run, it'll only take me ten minutes or so, you can just follow on."

"I can get us there quicker than that," said Hermione, shortly. "Just don't tell anyone I did this, I don't want to think how many laws I'm breaking."

The cottage they wanted wasn't on Street View, unsurprisingly; wizarding houses were well hidden. She picked a point nearby, and took a good look at the surroundings, rotating the view to see it from all sides, and fixing it in her mind.

"Come here," she said, grasped him firmly by the arm, and apparated them there.


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived with a small pop, next to the main road passing the village. Jace was impressed despite himself by the ease and speed of the wizard magic. The sensation was just as unpleasant as passing through a Portal, though, he thought; they hadn't solved that one.

After a moment catching his breath and orienting himself, he started into the woods, towards the place where he knew the cottage must be. He glanced back, after a moment, realising he was probably leaving the witch behind, but Hermione was keeping up with him easily, moving at a swift jog, wand held in front of her.

The trees were spread thinly, easy to move through, dappled sunlight showing a path a little way ahead. He paused, putting out a hand to stop Hermione.

"I think the cottage must be just in the next clearing." His voice was hardly more than a whisper. She nodded.

"Will it have wards – any kind of magical protections?" he asked.

"There'll be muggle repelling charms. Nothing else, I wouldn't think." Hermione replied, echoing his quiet voice. "Not these days."

Jace started forwards again, more slowly this time, Hermione following. As they reached the edge of the trees, he stopped, suddenly. The cottage was clearly visible. The front door was open, and something – some _one_ – was sprawled on the ground in front of it.

He pulled his Sensor from his pocket, and held it out in front of him. "Nothing obvious," he said, after a moment. "Demon sensor," he added, shortly, realising that she wouldn't recognise it. "We should be careful, though." He pulled out a seraph blade, holding it ready to name if needed.

"Give me a moment," Hermione answered, and spoke words he couldn't catch. He sensed rather than saw a bubble of magic expanding to surround them. "Shield spell," she said. "Won't stop everything, but it'll help."

As they got close to the body, Jace could see that it was an old woman, very obviously dead, long score marks across her face and body echoing the remains of his earlier wounds. The taint of demon hung faintly in the air.

Jace wondered briefly if Hermione would be shaken by the sight of the body but she was matter of fact, almost professional. She spoke some words over the woman's body; a blue glow came from her wand, surrounded the body for a moment, then dissipated.

She looked at him. "No obvious marks from dark magic. The same demon that attacked you, do you think."

He shrugged. "Seems likely. We'd better look inside, I guess."

He intended to go first, but Hermione stepped over the body, into the cottage. It was dark inside, the sunlight filtered by the trees through the small windows.

"Lumos." A bright light sprung from Hermione's wand, illuminating the room. The inside was chaotic, furniture thrown around, books littering the floor. There was a door to the side, askew where it had been half ripped off of its hinges.

There was a trail of blood, leading through the door. Looking through, they could see an elderly man, sprawled dead, his wand just visible under his body, snapped in half.

"Her husband, I imagine," said Hermione, grimly. "Trying to fight back, perhaps. But I doubt they were very powerful, even when they were younger, and they must both have been in their eighties."

She picked up a framed photo from the mantlepiece. "Looks like he was a maintenance wizard at the Ministry. She was probably a housewitch, wouldn't have had much need for defensive spells, even in Voldemort's time."

/

Hermione tucked her report for Bill into the band on Kriophoros' leg. _And this time he can actually send someone who's meant to be working to pick up the pieces_ , she thought, opening the window and shooing the owl through it.

Turning back into the cottage she looked at Jace, who was sitting at the kitchen table. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd asked him back here, but somehow it hadn't seemed quite right to just walk away from the slaughter in the woods and leave him to get on with – well, with whatever he was going to do - without any further comment. Even though that was exactly what she was planning to do from her side; hand the investigation straight over to the Ministry, and get back to her sabbatical.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"Not my problem," she answered.

He raised an eyebrow. "You just walk away?"

He might look older, but he still had the striking golden hair and eyes she remembered from their previous meeting. Her first impression had been right, though, she thought. He had changed. He'd had a confidence – a look of invincibility – that wasn't there now.

She nodded, slowly. "For a month. Then they get me back."

That was more than she'd meant to say. Time to start asking the questions herself, she thought. "What about you? I guess the Ministry will want to speak to you. Do you have to talk to . . .the Clave, is it?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure they'll be particularly interested. They tend to be a little – insular – where anyone other than Shadowhunters is concerned."

"So that's it for you too?" she asked.

"No. Now I have to go find the demons again. And this time, I win," he said, matter of factly.

"Will you get help?"

He shrugged. "There isn't really anyone to help. I'm here – in Wales – because the local Institute was so short."

There was a pause. Then Jace spoke again, abruptly.

"Clary – my wife – died."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, after a moment's silence.

She wasn't sure whether to ask more, but then she looked at Jace, and thought of the number of people who had edged away from her, not wanting to talk about Ron, and how alone it had made her feel.

"What happened?" she asked, quietly.

Jace shrugged. "What nearly happened to me today."

Hermione waited, and after a moment, he went on. "There was a demon incursion in a high school. Clary was the only one in the Institute when the report came in, and she went without waiting for any backup." He looked at Hermione, and added with a ghost of humour. "That time there weren't any handy witches nearby to pick up the pieces. The rest of us got there too late."

"How long ago . . .?" asked Hermione.

"Six months. Shadowhunters don't have a great life expectancy, we die a lot. And we're meant to move on when we lose people, keep going for the sake of the cause."

"And you haven't?" she said.

He nodded. "That's why I'm here. Officially, for a change of scene. Unofficially . . . maybe so the Clave don't have to look at me every day."


End file.
